


Appeasement

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode: s01e04 Cripples Bastards and Broken Things, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Period-Typical Ableism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Power Dynamics, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: In which Robb apologises to Tyrion for misjudging his intentions, and Tyrion gains a better understanding of the Stark boy.
Relationships: Robb Stark/Tyrion Lannister
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Appeasement

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the asoiaf rarepairs prompt: Robb x Tyrion. Tyrion accepts Robb's offer to stay in Winterfell. Robb wants to apologise for his hostile behavior, tyrion is drunk.

“My lord.”

The Stark boy’s head is bowed, shamefaced. _As well he might be._ Tyrion should never have agreed to stay here. The innkeepers of the North have come to know him well these past few months, would surely offer him a good price, in hopes his retinue would recoup their costs for them. He should have walked out Winterfell’s gates once the wolf cub accused him to have anything to do with his brother’s fall (Tyrion has grown rather fond of Brandon Stark), but instead he chose to stay, presumably because his curiosity wants to see how helpful his gift really is. Yes, that must be it.

Tyrion does not recall giving Robb Stark permission to enter his chambers, but he supposes the boy does not need that validation for him to go to territory that is his - for now. “Lord Stark,” he says, a merry tilt to his voice. “I hope I have not offended you? You haven’t found another reason to cast me into the streets, surely.”

He jests, mostly, but Robb Stark looks surprisingly wounded. He has no reason to be. What does he care what a Lannister, from the other end of the continent, thinks of him? “No, of course not.” His northern accent grows thicker as his voice falters. “I wished to apologise. I was most unfair to you earlier, I…”

_Oh. Right._ Tyrion is left a bit bemused by this turn of events. “Well, yes. Did you not do that earlier?” He remembers being in the Great Hall of Winterfell, a barren, empty place, and hearing those words; the pleasantries of diplomacy, not worth much once words of war have already been exchanged.

Lord Stark looks upon the floor. Tyrion frowns. At least the little lord is sorry to have thought Tyrion tried to murder his brother, but that hardly satisfies Tyrion’s curiosity. By the gods, he is so young. Tyrion is sure being a dwarf aged him before his time, he never looked like that - but Robb Stark looks a little like Jaime at that age. Not that Tyrion saw much of Jaime when he was six and ten.

“You’d better not lead me astray,” Tyrion japes, unsettled by Stark’s lingering silence. He knows these Starks are no good with their words, and so it falls to him to pick up the slack. “If a man of any other house remained in my rooms this long, I might think he had untoward intentions.” He would not really. He’s sure his form would be repulsive to even the most desperate of pillowbiters. And yet it makes a good jape, does it not, to think the Stark heir might desire him?

But Stark does not laugh. His pale cheeks colour red. “Y-you must understand,” he stutters. “it’s just - since my father’s been away, it’s an awful lot for me to deal with - I want to be a good lord, but…”

Tyrion raises his hand. _I want to be a good lord._ Of course, because he must be, mustn’t he? The perfect heir to the seat of Winterfell, crafted to serve after his father, rough and crude and honest, as these Northerners like. Who could ask for more?

Unless, of course, there’s something wrong with him.

“Come to me, boy.” Tyrion feels a shred of guilt then. The Stark boy is hardly more than a child, and so he must be taking advantage. This is debauched, disgraceful. But he assures himself that, however much he might disdain the methods, Father will be most grateful for the information.

Robb shuffles forward slowly, awkwardly, still not meeting his eye. Indeed, he would have to kneel upon the ground to do so. “You are very sorry, aren’t you?” Tyrion asks, keeping his tone as light as he can. “Is that why you came to me? Because you thought you must offer your apologies?”

The boy’s throat makes an audible noise as he gulps, but he does not answer directly. “What would you have me do?” he murmurs.

Tyrion smirks. “Oh, I was thinking I’d leave that to you. How would you like to apologise?”

He is, he should make clear, giving Robb Stark an out there. He need not do anything if he does not wish it; it would be easy enough to play the fool, given how his family seems to tend to it. And yet, he drops to his knees regardless. Clearly, he is not so naive to the world as one might think.

“My lord,” he says, his voice dripping with sobriety, “do with me what you will to appease your honour.”

_Honour._ Tyrion does not think he’s met a single man in his life who cared for his honour. He threads his fingers through Stark’s auburn hair. It is a terrible thing he might ask of the boy, but he strongly suspects it is a terrible thing Robb came to him for.


End file.
